


like a fool

by forbiddenquill



Category: TWICE (Band)
Genre: F/F, Hanahaki Disease, I s2g it has a happy ending, graphic descriptions of blood btw, i needed to write chaeyu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-04 23:55:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20479568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forbiddenquill/pseuds/forbiddenquill
Summary: Hanahaki Disease AU: In which Tzuyu would literally rather die than tell Chaeyoung she loves her.





	like a fool

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pearson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pearson/gifts).

> Title comes from Twice's 'Like A Fool' song.
> 
> welp. THIS BLEW OUT OF PROPORTION. 
> 
> I fucking adore Chaeyu. I'm a diehard Minayeon shipper but there's just something so sweet about Chaeyoung and Tzuyu's relationship so I decided to explore it in this little story. I hope the characterizations are okay. I haven't really explored that deeply regarding their history so everything is sort of vague there. Anyway, don't kill me. This has a happy ending, okay?
> 
> Also, I gifted this to Pearson because I adore their Chaeyu fics! They're one of the reasons why I started shipping them in the first place. Anyway, dude, you might not know me. But I love you! Keep writing!
> 
> NOTE: It's very important to say that I knew jackshit about Taiwan and China akjsfhgbkjahgkjad I'm so sorry pls ignore the last few paragraphs. I'll edit this in the future cause it's apparently inaccurate I'm so sorry it's been bothering me for so long akjhfsdjkahgdg I didn't this fic would even blow up in the first place askjfhjkaghad

...

Tzuyu feels it one day after practice. 

At first, she thinks it’s a cough. Which is nothing to worry about. The weather’s been dreadful the past few days. It’s expected to happen at one point. Dahyun already has a slight sniffle going on for her, which drastically reduces the amount of time she spends cracking up jokes only Chaeyoung and Jeongyeon find funny. Still, Tzuyu asks to be immediately excused the minute they arrive to the house after the van drops them off.

“Are you okay?” Jihyo, the ever motherly figure, asks with a worried expression. The rest of the girls all clamber to their rooms, complaining about aching feet and sore backs. Nayeon yells dibs for the bathroom with Jeongyeon running after her. Momo seems to be carrying Sana in her arms. Mina follows them dutifully, focused on a game on her phone. Meanwhile, Chaeyoung and Dahyun are arguing about the punch line to a joke. What a bunch of unnies. 

“Yeah,” Tzuyu answers, feeling an itch in her throat, “I think I’m just coming down with something.” 

“I’ve got some medicine in the cupboard. Wait here.” 

Tzuyu sits down at the kitchen counter, rubbing her neck. Something seems to be crawling out of her throat, dying to get out. A few moments later, Jihyo returns with some cough medicine and a glass of water. Tzuyu thanks her unnie and takes the medicine, sipping the water through pursed lips. 

“Better?” Jihyo asks, smiling softly.

“Yeah. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be getting sick when we’re preparing for our comeback.”

“Don’t be silly.” Jihyo sits next to her, grinning. “Not all of us are made of steel.” 

They talk about a few things—Mina’s return seems to have set Jihyo on edge. Tzuyu senses that the older woman seems determined to keep everything running smoothly. She understands the sentiment. They have an upcoming comeback—nobody wants to screw it up. This is why Jihyo’s been constantly checking on Dahyun every time she hears a cough ring out from across the room and why she’s breaking apart stupid arguments between Nayeon and Jeongyeon. 

Tzuyu doesn’t want to worry her over a stupid cough. Even if it feels like it's starting to feel worse with each second. The water helps but only a little. 

“Thank you, unnie,” she says and moves to stand up, “I’ll head up to bed a little early.” 

“Don’t let Dahyun cough on you,” her unnie warns. 

“Of course not.” 

But it’s not Dahyun that Tzuyu worries about. When she gets upstairs and reaches her room, the inside of her chest suddenly clogs up. It feels like somebody has reached out and squeezed her heart. Nearly stumbling forward, she manages to right her weight against the wall. Behind the door, she hears Chaeyoung and Dahyun laughing around, possibly even having a pillow fight. 

She coughs once. The action itself is enough to shake her shoulders. 

“Great,” she mumbles to herself, “I’ve caught Dahyun’s flu.” 

Sighing, she pushes the door to their room open and steps inside. As expected, Dahyun and Chaeyoung stand in the middle of their shared space, holding pillows up, devious grins mirrored on their faces. When they spot Tzuyu entering, they immediately put them down. Grins turn bashful. 

“Dahyun’s sick,” Tzuyu reminds them blankly. 

“Not my fault this little runt wanted to play along,” Chaeyoung points out.

Dahyun scoffs. Both her nose and cheeks are red. Due to her pale complexion, it’s always obvious whenever she gets sick. “Did you just call _me _little?” she grumbles, placing her pillow back on her bed, “Anyway, Tzuyu’s right. We still have practice tomorrow.” 

Chaeyoung sighs. “You guys are no fun.” The sight of her pout makes Tzuyu look away.

She rolls her eyes, grabs some clothes from her closet and heads out for the bathroom. The rest of the unnies have already finished with removing their make-up and taking half baths. She spots Jihyo and Mina talking on the couch when she passes by. At the same time, Sana and Momo can be heard from the kitchen arguing about which midnight snack is better—jokbal or literally anything else in the world. Meanwhile, Nayeon and Jeongyeon are in the former’s bedroom, having a VLive. 

Her throat itches again. She quickly shuts herself in the bathroom before Jihyo hears. It’s bad enough she’s worried about Mina—Tzuyu doesn’t want to add to the burden. 

The cough seems to be clawing its way out of her throat. It turns sharp all of a sudden, like a bunch of vines has suddenly popped out of nowhere, sharp leaves cutting her insides. She hunches over the sink and lets it out, her chest shaking with each cough that pops out of her mouth. Only her saliva comes out. But she can taste iron in the back of her throat. The scent of flowers suddenly fills the room. She feels dizzy. Her chest aches. 

A knock on the door breaks her thoughts. “Tzuyu-ya?”

Cursing herself for not locking the door, Tzuyu presses a cold hand against her warm forehead. “What is it, Chae?” 

“Are you okay? You didn’t look too good earlier.” 

Before Tzuyu can answer with a firm “I’m fine,” another cough shatters her next words. It makes her want to puke. She squeezes her eyes shut and covers her mouth. She can taste blood. There’s something clogging her windpipe. 

“Tzuyu?” 

The knob to the door slowly twists open. Tzuyu coughs once again and something pink pops out of her mouth. She clutches it tightly in one hand just as Chaeyoung sticks her head in. She’s aware of how pale she looks in the mirror and the immediate worry that sets in the shorter girl’s face doesn’t help qualm her worries. _Breathe,_ she tells herself. 

“Are you sick?” Chaeyoung asks, her short dark hair sticking out everywhere.

Tzuyu avoids her gaze—even when she can see her reflection in the mirror. As clear as day.

“I’m fine,” she says, shoulders tense, “It’s just a cough. I already drank some medicine.” 

“You’re really pale. Almost like Dahyun.” 

“Yeah.” Tzuyu runs the tap, putting her closed fist under the water. “But I’ll be fine. Little under the weather, that’s all.” 

Chaeyoung steps inside and wraps her arms around Tzuyu’s waist. The taller girl flinches but thankfully, the shorter girl doesn’t seem to notice, too intent on staring at their reflections in the mirror. Tzuyu’s heart hammers loudly in her chest. The inside of her ribcage prickles with pain. It’s as if the beating organ within is being plagued with ugly vines gripping it tight. Each beat it makes, it pricks itself on their sharp edges. 

“Tzuyu-ya,” Chaeyoung says, smiling at her, “Feel better, okay?” 

The pain worsens. Tzuyu forces a smile. “Yeah, don’t worry about me.” 

“You’re our maknae,” Chae tells her, “Of course I worry.” 

The words make her head spin. She nods, clutching the object in her hand more tightly. “Yeah,” she just says and hopes Chaeyoung drops it. Thankfully, the shorter girl lets go of her and steps outside of the bathroom. Her touch lingers. Like the aftermath of a forest fire—both terrible and forgiving. She wants to believe the worst is over. Then the door swings shut behind her and Tzuyu closes her eyes. She’s unsurprised to feel tears flowing from them, hot against her cheeks. 

Inside her closed fist, the flower petal reminds her that the absolute worst is yet to come. 

…

Tzuyu thinks she knows where it started. 

…

_She was still a trainee. No family. No friends. Nothing. She was alone in a foreign country with a broken language on the tip of her tongue. But this was her dream _— _she was determined to push through with it. This was one of the many things her parents have admired about her constantly: she was a fighter. Nothing could deter her from what she wanted. The reason why she left home so soon. _

_Still. She found herself crying in the bathroom after the first few days. She was homesick and lonely. Everybody admired her beauty, her long dark hair, her tall stature. But they didn’t see the pain behind her eyes. She left home for this but God knows how much she wanted to crawl back into her mother’s arms and weep against her skin. _Take me home,_ she wanted to say. _

_She was so absorbed in her own tears she didn’t hear the door to the bathroom opening. She only realized it when she spotted shoes standing right outside her own cubicle. Before she could yell at them to go away, a soft knocks rings through the empty space._

_“Tzuyu-ssi?” a voice called out. It sounded familiar. “It’s me. Chaeyoung. Remember?” _

_Oh. Right. Chaeyoung was one of the girls she was currently rooming with. Tzuyu rubbed the tears from her eyes and steeled her expression. There was no way she’d allow herself to look weak in front of others. This was a competition, after all._

_“I’m fine,” she said. The words were ingrained in her skull. She was _fine. 

_“Oh. Okay. It’s just… I saw you leave earlier and just wanted to make sure you were okay.” _

_“I am.” Tzuyu sniffled. “Don’t worry about me.” _

_“You don’t sound okay.”_

_God. This girl was relentless. Tzuyu stood up and opened the door. On the other side, Chaeyoung looked up at her. She was shorter than Tzuyu remembered. _

_“Thank you for checking up on me,” she said slowly in Korean. _

_Chaeyoung beamed at her. “You’re prettier up close,” she said, “even if your eyes are puffy and red. Don’t worry—” she added hastily when Tzuyu’s expression soured “—I won’t tell anybody.” _

_Tzuyu didn’t say anything. She leaned against the cubicle door and stared at the ground. Only looking up when Chaeyoung let out a soft sigh and reached out to touch her hand. Her jaw hardened. All the words she wanted to say—not that she had many anyway—clogged up in her throat. She wanted to tell Chaeyoung to fuck off but at the same time, she wanted her to stay. There was something kind about the shorter girl—like she knew exactly what Tzuyu was going through. _

_“It’s going to be okay,” Chaeyoung told her carefully, eyes boring into her soul, “They’re going to be proud of you.” _

_And just like that—_

_Tzuyu’s fate was sealed._

…

Tzuyu thinks it’s ironic.

Chaeyoung’s name in Korean means “flowers.” 

Ironic or poetic_ — _she honestly can’t decide. 

…

Jihyo’s worried expression crosses her peripheral view the next day during breakfast. “You don’t look too good, Tzuyu,” the older woman says, hand already reaching out to touch her forehead, “Did Dahyun cough on you or something?”

_Worse, _Tzuyu thinks to herself, glancing at Chaeyoung seated next to her. The shorter girl smiles back up at her._ Chaeyoung made me fall for her. _

“_Hey!_” Dahyun yells from the other side of the table, waving her fork around, “I fell asleep after my pillow fight with Chae last night! Don’t go blaming me for Tzuyu getting sick.” 

“Well, you’re the only one who’s sick right now.”

“Blame the weather, then!” 

Jeongyeon snickers behind her cup of coffee. “Okay, tofu. We get it. You’re not at fault for getting our precious maknae sick.” 

They’re all seated around the kitchen table, however cramped it may be. Jihyo stands, making sure all of them are eating enough. Sana sits on Momo’s lap as she scrolls through her phone with the older girl shoving bacon into her mouth. Meanwhile, Nayeon and Mina are talking about some game the younger one has expressed interest in. A sort of zombie shooter game that just recently came out. Nayeonnie seems intent on taking her to the arcade later, much to Mina’s absolute joy. 

Chaeyoung suddenly brushes her arm against Tzuyu’s. A jolt of electricity passes through her. It’s enough to get her to spill the coffee in her hand and onto her shirt. Thankfully, it’s no longer steaming hot. “Oh, _fu _—” she catches Jihyo’s disapproving look “— _fudge. _I’ll be back.” 

She hurries upstairs to change. Chaeyoung’s touch still lingers. The flowers in her chest return like ocean waves. The vines are back, stabbing her insides. Before anybody can follow, she locks herself in the bathroom. When the coughing starts, she throws the flower petals straight into the trash bin. _This is what she gets,_ she thinks to herself with each coughing fit that passes, _this is what she deserves. _

Son Chaeyoung is sunshine personified. Nothing like her. Tzuyu will never be like her. She thinks back to all the comments netizens have shared about her personality, her looks, and her actions. They don’t say those things to Chaeyoung. Because the girl is the complete opposite of her. She’s smart, talented and artistic. Tzuyu’s seen her drawings up close. Chaeyoung has a bright future ahead of her. When their contract ends and they’ll split paths, she knows Chaeyoung will shine the brightest. 

This is what she tells herself when her feelings started getting out of hand, when she started entertaining the possibility of her and the shorter girl, when she started thinking about the three little words she could confess.

_Chaeyoung, I love you _—

_No,_ she tells herself fiercely, gripping the edges of the sink, _you will _not _drag her down with you. _

She starts coughing again. Her windpipe feels too tight, stuffed with petals and words she knows she’ll never say out loud. With each stab she feels in her chest and each flower that she pukes out, it’s a reminder of how her feelings are unrequited. _She doesn’t love you,_ the mess of bloodied flowers in the bathroom sink tell her. They taunt her, laugh at the tears in her eyes and the hand against her throat. Hanahaki disease—people have died from worse but Tzuyu thinks there’s nothing else short of fitting for her.

_Chaeyoung will never love her back. _

The blood against her lips taste like retribution.

…

Tzuyu tells herself she could have these feelings surgically removed. She could afford it. Money isn’t an issue, after all. Besides, it’s been done before. It’s how people have survived to tell the tale of unrequited love. It’s how people learn to go on with their life after being inflicted with this deadly disease. Tzuyu’s a survivor—one of the more practical and level-headed people in their group. It’s an easy solution to an otherwise suffocating problem. 

So why can’t she do it? 

She thinks of Chaeyoung’s smile directed at her every morning when she wakes up. She thinks of her hair—long and beautiful one day, cropped and cute the next. She thinks of her warm eyes and her even warmer hands. Bursting with beautiful lyrics and colorful sketches. How her voice changes along with her expression. The beauty mark under her lower lip. Her laugh when she’s with Dahyun.

She thinks of Chaeyoung every night before she goes to sleep, even though she’s right there next to her. She thinks of that one time the shorter girl crawled into her bed after she missed home so badly the tears wouldn’t stop flowing. She thinks of the kiss pressed against her forehead and the hands wrapping around her body, reminding her that there is home everywhere she goes. 

Son Chaeyoung is home. 

She thinks of love. 

She thinks of losing it forever. 

She thinks of how it’s worth it. 

Feeling this pain just to feel Chaeyoung’s love.

...

“Tzuyu-ya,” Chaeyoung grumbles during one of their rest days, clutching her hand, “can you get me an iced Americano? I want to look cool like Jeongyeonnie.” They’re standing in the middle of a coffee shop with black caps topped on their heads and sunglasses perched on their noses. Nobody seems to recognize them.

Tzuyu’s wearing a face mask since Jihyo insisted she was sick so Chaeyoung can’t see the smile that blossoms against her lips. A cough erases it soon after. “You already look cool,” she says, clearing her throat. The flowers sit at the bottom of her esophagus, just dying to get out. 

“Not as cool as unnie.” 

“We all know our unnies aren’t cool.” Tzuyu pauses. “Except maybe Mina.” 

Chaeyoung grins. “But you think _I’m _cool? Even though you’re like a head taller than me?” 

Despite the growing pain in her chest, Tzuyu reaches out and intertwines their fingers together. Chae’s warmth fills her to the bones, melting away the ice in her heart. Not that there’s any left. She’s been at the mercy of the shorter girl since that day in the bathroom when with a single sentence, her worries had ceased. 

“The coolest,” she says. She bites back a flower petal.

It’s worth it—seeing Chaeyoung’s eyes light up like a thousand fireworks. 

…

One day, Tzuyu decides to search up the type of flower causing her misery. 

She spends two hours scouring her phone for the name. It doesn’t even matter if she doesn’t have the physical one in her possession. She’s spent so many hours staring at the bloody pink mess of it every time she pukes it out that she doesn’t even need to think about it to remember. By now, she knows its exact shape and shade. It’s practically burned behind her eyelids. 

At first, she thought the red stripes on the flowers was blood. But they’re not. The flowers popping out of her mouth are white in general but have red stripes running along the edges. Sometimes, it looks pink. Other times, it’s just bloody red. She later finds her answer after looking at thousands of pictures. When she reads the description, her heart drops and the flower in her chest grows. 

_Striped carnations. _

Carnations in general mean a woman’s love. And it comes in many colors. Tzuyu thinks it’s fitting. Son Chaeyoung is a burst of color in her eyes. Constantly changing. She brings life to whatever she touches, whether it’s a drawing or Tzuyu’s heart. She’s impulsive, spontaneous and dangerous. All of the members know it—especially on the day she showed up at home after having cut her hair due to something she saw in a commercial. _Fearless,_ Tzuyu thinks. 

The carnations are a perfect fit for Chaeyoung. It’s no wonder Tzuyu’s growing one in her heart. 

Since they come in different colors, their meaning also changes. Pink ones mean undying love, similar to a mother’s for her child. (Tzuyu thinks of Chaeyoung in her yellow-striped pantsuit, her shockingly pink hair claiming _Fancy _as her era.) White refers to pure love. (The memory of Chaeyoung wearing the black suit with the straps and harnesses that compliments her own blonde-white hair in the set of _Breakthrough _crashes into her thoughts.) Dark red pertains to a deep affection. (This time, Tzuyu has to think a little farther back—of Chaeyoung waving a toy gun around as they film_ Cheer Up,_ a cowboy hat topped on her dark red hair.) 

But striped ones—the ones growing out of Tzuyu’s throat and straight into her waiting hands—they mean regret. Refusal. Rejection. Sympathy. These are the flowers you’d give to someone after they lose a loved one. The ones you’d put on gravestones. The ones you wish you’d never receive, no matter how beautiful they are. 

Tzuyu also thinks this is fitting. 

...

“I know what’s going on,” Dahyun says after cornering her late one night. It’s 3 AM. Tzuyu has her back pressed against the bathroom wall, bloody petals of striped carnations in one hand and a trash bag in the other. She’s been coughing non-stop ever since they went to bed earlier. Thank God Chaeyoung is a deep sleeper. 

“Don’t tell her,” are the first words that pop out of Tzuyu’s mouth. 

The older girl looks at her with pity in her eyes and Tzuyu can’t bear it. She looks away, crushing the pink petals tightly in her hand and shoving them straight into the bag. Her fingers are caked with blood. Her lips are too. She doesn’t pay it any attention, even after Dahyun kneels down next to her and tries to pry the trash bag away, whispering her name. 

“Tzuyu,” she says, “please look at me.” 

“I’m fine, unnie.”

“If you keep this up, you’re going to die. You know that, right?” Dahyun’s grip on her wrist is firm. Tzuyu lets out a long sigh and glances at her. Her face is lined with worry; the younger one hates being the cause of it. 

“I know,” she just says, shaking her off, “but I don’t want to cut it off.” 

“Then tell her.” 

“No.” Tzuyu doesn’t have to ask who Dahyun thinks it is. She has a feeling she knew all along. 

“Why not? She might feel the same way.” 

“If she does, then what’s the point of _this?_” Tzuyu shakes the trash bag, frustration coloring her tone. Tears sting the back of her eyes. “If she loves me the same way, then I wouldn’t be in this situation.” 

Dahyun doesn’t have an answer. When the silence becomes unbearable, it occurs to Tzuyu that she _wants _one. She wants something tangible. An explanation. A reason why the first person she loves doesn’t love her back. Her first love—Son Chaeyoung. She doesn’t understand why this has happened—why there are flowers growing inside her chest, why it hurts to think about her and why it had to come to this—her in the bathroom at three in the morning with striped carnations in her hands, torn bloody by her fingertips.

Dahyun wraps her arms around her. “It’s okay,” she whispers, “just let it out.” 

Tzuyu wants to push her away, wants to be left alone, and wants to reserve some dignity to herself. God, she hates feeling so _weak. _Her unnies have always looked at her as somebody to be protected, someone fragile and innocent, a little girl in a big world. She isn’t. She _knows _she isn’t. But Dahyun’s embrace is a comfort, one that Tzuyu desperately needs, and she clings to her unnie, shoving her face against her neck and sobbing the pain away. 

Only it doesn’t go away.

Not really, anyway. 

…

Dahyun doesn’t tell anybody and Tzuyu is grateful.

The striped carnations are methodically thrown away. 

…

It gets worse every day. 

Tzuyu coughs out flowers with stems now. It doesn’t hurt as much when they rest in the palm of her hand, even if they are caked in blood. Perhaps it’s because of their beauty, perhaps it’s because she knows the worst is yet to come. The vines will get worse, will grow, will soon constrict her heart with its vice like grip. She will die from it, if she doesn’t do anything, if she doesn’t tell anyone, if she’s willing to keep this secret to the grave. 

Dahyun’s presence is comforting, albeit suffocating too. She hovers behind Tzuyu everywhere they go. Sometimes, she tells her to confess. Other times, she tells her to get the surgery. On both occasions, Tzuyu says no. 

“Doesn’t it hurt?” Dahyun asks one day. 

Tzuyu hides a cough from behind her hand, discreetly looking out for Jihyo in case she’s listening in. The stem gets stuck in her throat. “It does,” she admits, her voice hoarse, “but it’s worth it.” 

“Is it, though?” 

Tzuyu nods, thinking of Chaeyoung’s smile. “I don’t want to feel empty.” 

Dahyun grabs her hand, squeezes it tight. “But it’s killing you.” 

Unlike the striped carnations, there is no regret in her voice when she says, “Let it.” 

…

_At first, Tzuyu thought it was a fluke. _

_There was no way she thought of Chaeyoung like _that. _When the older girl found her in the bathroom those many nights ago, she was in desperate need of comfort. Chae had given her that. It didn’t mean that she had feelings for her. Impossible. Nobody can develop feelings _that _quickly. Effortlessly. As if it was the easiest thing in the world. _

_So when Tzuyu and Chaeyoung ended up in the same girl group after SIXTEEN, she was determined to prove that what happened back in the bathroom was a mistake. She had shown her feelings back then _— _never again. She wouldn’t let anybody else baby her. Just because she was the youngest didn’t mean she was weak. She brought her walls up, higher than ever before, and was determined to keep it that way. _

_But then one day _— _Son Chaeyoung happened. Yet again. _

_She was alone in her room, watching a K-Drama online. The rest of the girls were out. Well, Tzuyu assumed they were. Nayeon dropped by, invited her to come along. She declined. After their victory back at SIXTEEN, all she wanted to do was curl up in bed and rest. She deserved to. _

_The door to the room she shared with the two maknaes swung open. Tzuyu pulled out her ear buds, frowning, when she saw Chaeyoung. _

_“Hi,” she greeted, “do you mind if I join you?”_

_“I thought you guys were hanging out,” Tzuyu said, not moving from her spot on her bed. _

_“I came back early.” _

_Tzuyu saw no other option except to make some room. Chaeyoung had something hidden behind her back, which peaked her curiosity. But she didn’t say anything. They weren’t that close to begin with, after all. The shorter girl carefully maneuvered her way on the bed so that whatever she was hiding behind her back couldn’t be seen. Tzuyu had to roll her eyes. _

_“I’m not like Nayeonnie,” she said, “I won’t steal your food.” _

_“You don’t _have _to steal it,” Chaeyoung said, grinning at her. Later on, it would become the same grin Tzuyu will eventually learn to love. “It’s yours.” _

_Growing increasingly confused, Tzuyu could only watch as Chaeyoung repositioned herself so that they were directly facing each other. Then, after a few moments, she showed the Taiwanese girl what she was hiding behind her back. It was a chocolate cupcake, topped with a single lit candle. Tzuyu blinked. _Wait, _she thought to herself,_ I never told them—

_“Happy birthday, Tzuyu-ya,” Chaeyoung said, her voice barely above a whisper. Her smile was soft, gentle. The younger girl decided not to ask how she knew, just let it slide. Another one of Chaeyoung’s little quirks. _

_That was the exact moment Tzuyu fell in love. She knew it wasn’t a fluke this time. _

…

There’s only so much Tzuyu can do before everything falls apart. 

Eventually, the other members start noticing. How the coughs haven’t disappeared, how she excuses herself into the bathroom when the day ends, how the scent of flowers seem to follow her around. The members asks and Tzuyu lies as easily as she breathes. It doesn’t take a genius to piece things together. 

But it does take one Park Jihyo to get the truth out of her. 

“Hanahaki disease,” their leader says one night after everybody else has conveniently returned to their rooms, leaving the two of them in the kitchen. Jihyo is upset, rightfully so. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she demands, her voice tight with worry and distress, “Do you know how I found out? I saw the flowers you stuffed under your bed when I was looking for some lip balm. They had blood on them.” 

Tzuyu shrugs, taking a sip of her water. “It never came up,” she says simply.

“Tzuyu, this is dangerous,” Jihyo presses.

“I know.” 

“How long has this been going on?” 

“Three weeks,” Tzuyu answers, flinching. She knows she’s going to get scolded. A month. She’s been coughing up flowers for a month now. Based on research, she knows that those inflicted with Hanahaki only have about two to three months to live before the flowers grew too large, before the heart was crushed by the weight of it, before it finally proved too fatal. 

But Jihyo only sighs and takes a seat next to her. “Is it Chaeyoung?” she asks quietly.

Tzuyu’s lack of an answer is an answer itself. 

“Why don’t you tell her?” Jihyo asks again, “She might feel the same way. You never know with her.” 

“You sound like Dahyun,” Tzuyu mumbles resignedly. 

The hurt that flashes across Jihyo’s features doesn’t go unnoticed. They’ve always been close—the two of them. If the roles were reversed, it would sting for Tzuyu if Jihyo didn’t tell her about having Hanahaki. Especially since it’s been a month. She tries to make up for it, pathetically so: 

“I love her,” she says, her voice too soft, too low. Jihyo nods, having heard her. This is the first time she’s admitted to loving Chaeyoung out loud. It doesn't sting as much as she thinks it would. “The pain hurts a lot but telling her how I feel and losing her sounds a lot worse,” she confesses. The past few weeks have led to her weeping every night into the pillow but she finds out that she still has some tears left to shed. “I don’t want that,” she murmurs, wiping them away. 

Jihyo’s face is full of sadness. Tzuyu looks down at her hands. A cough suddenly escapes her, ejecting a single striped petal onto the surface of the table. When she pulls her fingers away from her lips, they are bloody. 

“Why don’t you just get the surgery?” Jihyo asks, watching her carefully.

Tzuyu takes the petal in her hand and squeezes. “No,” she says firmly, “I don’t want to stop.”

“But, Tzuyu—” 

“Jihyo-unnie,” Tzuyu says, her tone leaving no room for argument, “This is my decision and I don’t want to cut away my feelings.” She stops, realizing the weight of her words as it settles in the silence between them. She _will _die because of this disease. And yet, here she is, being the martyr. She wants to think she’s brave for doing this, that she can be as fearless as Chaeyoung when it comes to expressing herself, that for the sake of love, she’d gladly lay down her own life. 

But deep down inside, she knows that she’s just afraid. 

She’s nothing but a coward.

She doesn’t want to die but she also doesn’t want to lose Chaeyoung. The idea of surgically removing her unrequited love and feeling _nothing _afterwards doesn’t sit well with her. But the thought of confessing her feelings and getting rejected seems like the worst fate. Ignorance is bliss, after all. She’d rather stay in the uncertain than suffer in the truth. 

“You’ll get that surgery later on,” Jihyo says, her voice quiet, “You’ll realize just how painful it is to go on like this. It won’t be worth it, you know. Dying for something the other person doesn’t even know about. I mean—where’s the justice in that?”

Tzuyu doesn’t say anything. There is some truth to those words. Jihyo reaches out and pats her hand, the same one holding the crushed flower petal in its grip. When she leaves, it takes Tzuyu some time to open her fist again. The striped carnation stares at her from where it lies against her palm, broken and bloody. 

She throws it away. 

…

Chaeyoung’s voice is at her ear. “Tzuyu, hey. Wake up. It’s time for breakfast.” 

The flowers inside her chest have gotten worse. She can’t breathe. But she also can’t let Chaeyoung know that she can’t breathe. Fighting back the cough that’s dying to rattle out of her mouth, she digs herself deeper into the bed and covers her face with a blanket. “I’ll catch up with you later,” she murmurs, clutching at her throat. 

“Are you okay? You don’t sound too good.” 

“I’m fine, Chaengie.” 

Tzuyu doesn’t have to look to know the worried expression across Chaeyoung’s face. The other side of the mattress suddenly dips with newfound weight and then there are fingers ghosting the length of her arms. Tzuyu can’t help but shiver. 

“You’ve been sick for nearly a month now,” Chaeyoung points out, “I know you’ve been trying to hide it from the other girls but you can’t fool me.”

_I already have,_ Tzuyu thinks as she takes a deep breath. The scent of the flowers has stuck with her every day for the past three weeks now but it is only in this moment that she can truly say she feels sick of it. She wonders if Chaeyoung has a slight suspicion about the disease, if she has an inkling about who Tzuyu has unrequited feelings for. Tzuyu hopes not. 

“Come on,” Chaeyoung tells her quietly, “We’ll go to the doctor today.”

“I’m fine, Chae,” Tzuyu manages to say again. Talking out loud has reminded the disease that it has a mouth to come out of and she can feel the rush of flowers and stems just itching to get out. She squeezes her eyes shut and inhales deeply, trying to push it back in. It’s no use—nature wants sunlight. The closest one just happens to be Son Chaeyoung. 

“Tzuyu-ya—” 

“_Please,_ Chaeyoung-ah,” Tzuyu spits, curling her fingers around her throat, “Leave me alone. I’ll get up later.” 

Silence. After a few seconds, Chaeyoung gets up and leaves the room. She doesn’t slam the door on her way out. Tzuyu wishes she did. At least then she wouldn’t feel guilty for snapping at her. Then again, she doesn’t want Chaeyoung to realize the severity of her cough in the first place. She waits for a few more minutes, holding the flowers in, before she stands up and quietly heads to the bathroom. She curses the fact that they all have to share a single bathroom, especially when she crosses a worried-looking Mina in the hallway. 

She slams the door to the bathroom shut and hunches over the sink. She coughs out the flowers along with their stems, made bloody by its journey from her heart and out of her mouth. They’re beautiful. That’s one of the things Tzuyu always thinks at the sight of them—they’re so fucking beautiful and they’re killing her. The red and white pattern of the striped carnations have haunted her every single day since she got that itch in her throat. And now, sitting here in the bathroom with her hands clutching the rim of the sink bowl, she now understands what Jihyo was trying to tell her. 

_You’ll realize just how painful it is to go on like this. _

She tries her best not to cry. Because Chaeyoung is worth it. She’s worth the vines in her chest, the flowers in her mouth, the blood on her fingertips. She deserves to be loved, even if it is by someone so unworthy like Chou Tzuyu. Somebody who possibly couldn’t compare. 

_Doesn’t it hurt? _Dahyun’s voice comes back, pinched with worry.

Of course it fucking does. But not as much as knowing that Chaeyoung doesn’t return her feelings. 

Tzuyu pukes out more flowers, gagging when a stem gets stuck in her throat. She has to manually pull it out, the taste and scent of blood filling her senses. She feels feverish, like her entire chest cavity is about to cave in. But it just keeps coming. The more Tzuyu thinks of how undeserving she is of Son Chaeyoung, the more the vines constrict around her chest. The more she remembers her warm eyes and her gorgeous smile, the more the flower petals multiply. The more she wants the girl to love her the same way, the more fatal the disease gets. 

Tzuyu’s practically digging her own grave now.

She briefly thinks about getting the surgery but she dispels the thought quickly.

She’d rather die than tell Chaeyoung she loves her. 

Fate doesn’t seem to be on her side.

Due to her haste in getting to the bathroom earlier, she forgot to lock the door behind her. This fact slowly settles in when she hears the knob twisting. It’s as if time has suddenly stopped turning. But because she’s so busy trying to literally throw up her feelings, Tzuyu can only watch on the mirror as Chaeyoung opens the door and stops dead in her tracks. 

“Tzuyu,” Chaeyoung says, her eyes wide as she takes in the sorry sight of Tzuyu clutching bloody flowers in her hands. 

“No,” Tzuyu moans, “leave me alone, Chaengie.” 

“You have Hanahaki disease.”

“Just _go,_ okay?” 

“What. The. Fuck.” Chaeyoung slams the door behind her and locks it, knowing full well that the rest of the members will just barge in and stop the confrontation from happening. 

Tzuyu groans. The moment she’s dreaded for so long has finally arrived. She twists around and tries to stop Chaeyoung from seeing the bouquet she just popped out of her mouth. Chaeyoung is relentless, however, sidestepping her easily and staring wide-eyed at the massacre. 

“Why didn’t you…” Chae begins, her voice quivering. She’s almost as pale as Dahyun. 

Tzuyu closes her eyes, knowing that her misery will quickly morph into anger. “I’m fine,” she says quietly and the lie is as worse as the flowers in her throat, “It’s nothing, okay? Just a—”

“Don’t you _dare _say it’s nothing!” the shorter girl snaps, her temper finally cracking. She twists around, her eyes practically shooting daggers at her. Even though Tzuyu is literally a head taller, she takes a step back. “You’re _dying,_ Tzu. And you never said anything! Why are you like this? You’ve been like this since the day we met! Even though you’re literally fucking falling apart, all you do is shake your head and say you’re fine when you’re clearly not!” 

The volume of her voice is so loud it makes Tzuyu’s head pound. 

“I didn’t want you to worry—” she murmurs. 

“_Of course _I’m going to worry,” Chaeyoung spits, lowering her voice when she sees Tzuyu swaying on her feet, “That’s what friends are for.” 

_Friends. _The word is enough to tighten the vines around Tzuyu’s chest. She feels dizzier now. 

“That’s the problem,” she quietly says. It’s a small confession, one she can manage to admit out loud. It doesn’t hurt any less. 

Chaeyoung runs her fingers through her short dark hair, looking absolutely miserable. Tzuyu stares at her, memorizing every feature of her face. From her doe-like eyes to her heart-shaped lips. She can never decide which Chaeyoung hairstyle she likes the most—possibly because she loves all of them, just as much as she loves all sides of the woman.

“Who is it?” the shorter girl suddenly asks, whipping around to stare at her, “Maybe if we tell them, they’ll change their mind and love you back. Then you’ll be healed! But if it doesn’t work, then you can get the surgery and—” 

Tzuyu’s hand moves on its own accord, grabbing at her best friend’s wrist and silencing her immediately. “I don’t want the surgery,” Tzuyu whispers. 

“Then _tell _them! Please! Do _something _about this!” Chaeyoung is crying now, steady tears streaming down her cheeks. “Don’t keep saying that you’re—you’re _fine. _We—we both know you’re—you’re _not.”_

Tzuyu’s throat closes. “I—” she starts to say. The words are at the tip of her tongue. _I love you, Son Chaeyoung. _This is possibly the worst thing to have ever happened to her. Out of all the scenarios she imagined confessing to the shorter girl, this is definitely at the bottom of her list. She doesn’t want to tell Chaeyoung her feelings after being afflicted by the disease, doesn’t want her to feel burdened by the knowledge that _she _is the cause, doesn’t want her to be obligated to love her back. Because that’s the worst kind of love, right? When they love you only because you ask them to. 

“I can’t,” Tzuyu finally says, squeezing her eyes shut and taking a deep breath, “I can’t tell them and I can’t get the surgery. I don’t want to.”

“You’ll _die,_” the shorter girl sobs. 

Tzuyu doesn’t say anything. Instead, she pulls Chaeyoung in and wraps her arms around her. The smell of flowers is sickening so Tzuyu focuses on the other girl’s scent, breathing her in. _This is enough, _she thinks to herself as Chaeyoung cries on her shoulder. _God, let this be enough. _The whole time she had Hanahaki, she never once avoided Chaeyoung. It was inevitable, really. Besides, she knows she doesn’t have the strength to do that to her. Just because she is the catalyst for what happened doesn’t mean she is to blame. Avoiding her would’ve only made things worse. And if Tzuyu really is going to die, then she doesn’t want to die having ruined their friendship. 

“It’s going to be fine,” Tzuyu says. The moment she says it, her chest suddenly shakes. She’s overcome with a series of violent coughs. Chaeyoung steps back, terrified, as Tzuyu lurches forward to the sink and pukes out more flower petals than she can count. Vines are crawling out of her esophagus. The overpowering smell of flora and blood is sickening. She feels both warm and cold, like her body itself isn’t sure of what to do. It’s getting worse. So much worse. 

“Tzuyu-ya…” When the taller girl turns, Chaeyoung’s eyes are filled with tears. “Please. Get the surgery. If you won’t do it for you, can you do it for me?” 

Tzuyu stills. “Chae...you don’t know what you’re asking for.” 

“You’re one of my best friends,” the shorter girl pleads, “and I don’t want to lose you.”

Tzuyu realizes she’s crying now. The tears are burning against her skin. _Why isn’t this enough? _She thinks to herself, biting her lower lip, _why can’t Chaeyoung loving her as a friend be enough? _She looks down at the mess of flowers in the sink. The striped carnations seem to be mocking her. 

“Please?” Chae reaches out and grabs her clammy hands. “Will you do it for me?” 

_But it’s _because _of you,_ Tzuyu thinks bitterly. The flowers at the back of her throat grow with each second that passes by. Chaeyoung’s gaze doesn’t leave hers.

“Chaeyoung-ah…” Tzuyu’s voice trails off as she sniffs. “I can’t do that.” 

“I know I’m being selfish,” the shorter girl says, squeezing her hands, “but let me. I love you too much just to watch you die. Just—_ please._” 

“You don’t know what you’re saying.” _I love you, I love you, and I love you. _The words ring through Tzuyu’s mind like a pinball. A fiercer voice that sounds suspiciously like her own snaps ‘as_ a friend._’ 

“Yes, I do.” Chaeyoung’s lower lip trembles. “I love you, Tzuyu-ya.”

The vines in Tzuyu’s chest squeezes. It’s the most painful thing she’s ever experienced. She gasps, dropping to her knees, as the flowers in her throat bubble up like lava. They spill out of her lips and onto the ground, a dizzying array of red and white. Chaeyoung lets go of her hands and crouches next to her, frantic and crying. Somebody knocks on the door, calling out their names. It sounds like Jeongyeon. Tzuyu doesn’t know anymore. The pain is too much. It’s like somebody’s stabbed a rusty knife straight into her heart and twisted it to the side. 

_I love you, Tzuyu-ya,_ Chaeyoung said. 

Telling her means losing her. 

Not telling her means dying.

Either way, it’s a lost cause. 

_Dying for something the other person doesn’t even know about,_ she remembers Jihyo saying, _I mean _— _where’s the justice in that? _

Tzuyu wipes off the blood from her lips, breathing heavily. She looks up at Chaeyoung with the little strength she has left. She’s going to die anyway. Might as well just get it over with. She places both of her blood-caked hands on her first love’s face, cradling her cheeks and running circles on them using both of her thumbs. The shorter girl's eyes are red around the edges as she waits for Tzuyu to speak, her lips slightly parted. 

“I love you too,” Tzuyu murmurs, tears spilling out of her own eyes, “That’s why I can’t get the surgery.” 

It takes a second but then Tzuyu sees the realizing dawning on Chaeyoung’s face. Once the confession is out of her lips, the striped carnations in her chest grow and grow. Her entire body shakes. The coughing starts again. Blood is spilled onto the white tiles of the bathroom floor. Chaeyoung grabs her shoulders and thumps on her back to get the flower petals out. They stream from her mouth like a waterfall, torn and bloody, but more are coming. She doesn’t think it’s going to stop, not until her heart finally gives out. In the seconds that pass by, she knows the beating organ cradled within her ribcage is close to doing so. 

She loses consciousness when Jeongyeon and Momo finally break open the door, followed closely by the rest of the members. Sana and Nayeon scream. Dahyun rushes to their side, looking like she’s going to faint. Tzuyu knows, without having to look, that Jihyo and Mina are already calling the ambulance and informing management. But the last thing she hears before she succumbs to the pain is Chaeyoung whispering, “I’m sorry” over and over again. 

…

Tzuyu remembers the first time Chaeyoung said she loved her. 

…

_“Tzuyu-ya,” Chaeyoung said, seemingly out of the blue; Tzuyu was practicing Hangul at her desk again _— _for the fifth night in a row, “You need to sleep.” _

_The taller girl hummed in agreement but doesn’t stop writing. Classes had been a pain the ass for the School Meal Club but that didn’t stop Tzuyu from wanting to do her best in the Korean language. She was still rusty around the edges, often mispronouncing words and saying something else entirely. Writing them down helped._

_“I’ll come up in a minute,” she told Chaeyoung, “I just need to finish this.” _

_Chaeyoung didn’t say anything _— _just walked over to where their maknae was dutifully studying. _

_“You can sleep next to Dahyunnie,” Tzuyu said when Chaeyoung just leaned on her side, perching her chin on top of her head. It was the only time Chaeyoung got to feel tall. _

_“But I like sleeping with you. You’re like a freaking furnace.”_

_Ignoring the blush that threatened to take over her face, Tzuyu put down her pen and glanced up. The shorter girl was looking down at what she had written. Their faces were so close that if Tzuyu just leaned her head to the side, she’d be kissing the beauty mark on Chaeyoung’s chin._

_She didn’t, though. She never did. _

_“I’m almost done,” Tzuyu said. _

_“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Chaeyoung began, tapping her notes, “What’s ‘_I love you’_ in your language?” _

_Tzuyu blinked. Then shook her head. It was just an innocent question but that didn’t stop her heart from racing. “You mean in Mandarin?” _

_“Taiwanese,” Chaeyoung said, “it’s closer to your heart, right?” _

You’re closer to my heart_, Tzuyu thought, face palming herself at how cheesy the line was. Thank God her brain to mouth filter was strong. She shifted in her seat and looked away from Chaeyoung’s curious gaze. _

_“_Góa ài lì,"_ she said carefully. She couldn’t remember the last time she said that _— _especially after being so immersed in the South Korean culture. _

_“Ah.” Chaeyoung slid into the seat next to her, smiling brightly. “_Góa ài li. _Sounds like_ wǒ ài nǐ._”_

_“Taiwanese and Mandarin are really similar.” Tzuyu couldn’t concentrate on her notes now, her cheeks flushing with heat. “Why did you ask?” _

_“Oh, the fans are always asking you to speak Taiwanese,” Chaeyoung explained casually, running her fingers through her long dark hair, “I wanted to practice since we’re always together when we do VLives.” _

_“Ah.” Tzuyu couldn’t help the tinge of disappointment she felt at the pit of her throat. _

_Silence._

_“Do you want to head upstairs now?” _

_Tzuyu must’ve looked out of it. She feigned sleepiness and nodded her head. Dutifully, Chaeyoung helped picked up her books and notes. There was a tension in the air but perhaps Tzuyu must’ve been imagining it, since the shorter girl just skipped on ahead to their shared room. Her heart still had difficulty in slowing down, especially when all she could think about was Chaeyoung saying, “_Góa ài li”_ to her face. There was something magical about hearing someone tell you they love you in the language you were born in, even though Tzuyu tried to tell herself that Chaeyoung was only practicing. _

_But later on, after she finished arranging her stuff for school the following day and Chaeyoung curled next to her on the bed, Tzuyu heard another magical thing. With Chaeyoung lying on her chest, she felt the shorter girl’s lips moving against the skin of her collarbone, whispering words Tzuyu would bring with her to the grave: “ _Saranghae, _Tzuyu-ya."_

_The next time they had a VLive, Chaeyoung said, ‘_Góa ài li_’ to the Taiwanese fans, which spurred them on and got a lot of likes. Tzuyu sat next to her, her heart racing like the first time she heard the girl say those three little words. It almost hurt, actually. How Chaeyoung laughing by her side could have such devastating effects. Then she told herself she was healthy _— _at least she knew her heart worked. _

…

When Tzuyu wakes up, she’s in the hospital with the rest of the members sitting on the couch or standing by the walls. They’ve been waiting for her to wake up, apparently. The worry in their faces is enough to make Tzuyu want to go back to sleep again. However, Nayeon catches sight of her shifting around and squeals so loudly the maknae nearly has a heart attack. 

“_You’re awake!” _the eldest unnie yells happily, immediately pouncing on her. Thank God Tzuyu manages to sit up first. She doesn’t think she can bear to be crushed by the woman’s weight, even if it is a comforting one. 

The others all head over to her side, asking questions and checking her vitals. As if they had some medical background in the first place. What a bunch of idiots—the same idiots Tzuyu loves. Nayeon still has her arms wrapped around her neck, Jeongyeon is patting her head, Momo and Sana are by her legs trying to get her to talk to them first, Jihyo holds her left hand while Mina takes the other and Dahyun manages to squeeze in to hug her middle. 

Only Chaeyoung is missing. Tzuyu doesn’t want to think about the implications.

At a closer glance, she realizes they’ve all been crying at some point. Their eyes are puffy. This knowledge is heavy on her mind, triggering a wave of guilt to wash over her. 

“How are you feeling?” Jeongyeon asks, watching her worriedly.

Tzuyu lets go of Jihyo’s hand and reaches out to touch her throat—the same throat that’s been puking out flowers nonstop for the past several weeks. “Better,” she answers. Before she can think too much about it, Nayeon wails by her ear again, 

“You should’ve told us! We would’ve helped you out, you know that, right?” 

Wincing, Tzuyu nods. “I’m sorry, unnie.” 

“You’re a stupid freaking idiot, Tzuyu-ya,” Dahyun grumbles by her stomach, squeezing her tight, “I told you this would happen. Now look at where we are now!” 

“I’m fine, unnies.”

“You weren’t,” Mina pipes up, her gentle gaze putting Tzuyu to shame, “If you hadn’t collapsed yesterday, the doctors wouldn’t have been able to… you know.” 

The atmosphere in the room drops. Tzuyu sees Jihyo shoot Mina a warning look. But the words have been said and the damage is done. The girls all lean back, watching her reaction. 

"What did the doctors do?" Tzuyu asks quietly, even though a part of her already knows the answer. She thinks she knew the second she woke up—when she couldn't smell the flowers, when the back of her throat didn't taste like leaves, when it didn't hurt to breathe anymore. 

It is Momo who answers her, "They saved you, Tzuyu." Her voice is uncharacteristically soft.

_But at what cost? _

Sana takes a step forward when Tzuyu starts shaking. "Hey," she coos, rubbing her arm comfortingly, "you're okay. You're going to be okay." 

It's not okay. Tzuyu clutches her throat, hoping to feel the striped carnations growing but she feels nothing. There is no pain anymore. No disease killing her from the inside out. No unrequited feelings stashed away. She should feel relieved—happy, even. But she can't. Not when the cure means losing her feelings towards Chaeyoung. What's a lifetime worth of relief when she can't experience the ability to love wholly and truly? Tears prickle the back of her eyes. She wants to be upset—she deserves to be upset. Jihyo and Dahyun knew she didn't want to get the surgery. And yet, here they are, offering her soft smiles. Like it doesn't matter what she wanted. So long as she's still breathing, apparently. 

"I didn't want the surgery," she spits out, her sight blurring with unshed tears, "I told you that. Why did you let the doctors go through with it?" 

Momo gives her a confused expression. "What are you talking about?" 

"They cut it out, didn't they?" Tzuyu asks, not thinking straight. Her voice is thick with emotion. "My feelings for… I can't feel the pain anymore. So they must've taken it out, right?" 

Jihyo sits on the mattress and pats her knee. "Tzuyu…" 

"Why, unnie?" Tzuyu demands, looking up. The girls all flinch at the hardness in her voice. "I told you I didn't want to take it out. I didn't care if it hurt or that I could die from it. It was—it was _worth _it, okay?" She hates the fact that she's trembling with rage and misery. Knowing that she'll never be able to think of Chaeyoung without the usual butterflies or the tightening in her chest is a different form of torture. She stubbornly wipes away the tears. 

She thinks of Chaeyoung now—the different shades of her hair every time they did a comeback, the warmth in her eyes when she looked at Tzuyu, her cute laugh filling the room, the way she said '_I love you' _in Tzuyu's mother tongue, the pain in her eyes at the sight of Tzuyu holding bloody flower petals in her hands. 

It hurts—knowing she'll never feel these emotions again. It hurts to know the flowers are gone and along with it, her love for the girl who didn’t return her feelings. Tzuyu covers her face with her hands and weeps. 

There is only silence. 

Then Jeongyeon shakes her head. "Tzuyu, we didn't tell the doctors to do anything about the Hanahaki," she tells her, voice firm, "We knew something was going on but we also respect your decision to keep it to yourself." 

Tzuyu looks up, confused. 

Mina takes a step closer. "When you think about Chaeyoung now, what do you feel?" she asks gently. 

"I—well, it still _hurts,_" Tzuyu mumbles, apparently in a dazed. "Not as much as yesterday, though."

"So the flowers are gone, right?" Dahyun presses, wriggling her eyebrows. The ghost of a smile plays on her lips.

"Yeah. I can't taste them anymore." 

A thoughtful expression crosses Momo's features. "I wonder what that's like," she comments, "Would jokbal still taste like jokbal? I'd like to try that out."

Sana hits her on the head, screeching “_Don’t wish for it!_” 

Jihyo sighs at the two Japanese women before looking back at Tzuyu, a soft smile painted on her face. "If we had let the doctors take it out then you wouldn't be feeling like this, right?" she asks, "You wouldn't feel like we just betrayed you. You wouldn't care if you couldn't feel anything for Chaeyoung anymore. And you most definitely wouldn't be crying about it now." The older unnie wipes away Tzuyu's tears for her, her touch motherly. 

"When you arrived at the hospital, the flowers were already gone," Nayeon remarks, "Before the doctors could release you, they had to make sure all of it was gone. A month of Hanahaki can have side effects, you know. But thankfully, you're going to be fine!" Her eyes suddenly fill with tears and she hugs Tzuyu once again. "Oh, I was so worried, Tzuyu-ya! Don't scare your unnies like that again!"

Jeongyeon rolls her eyes and drags Nayeon back. "Pull yourself together, Nabongs." 

Tzuyu's brain is still trying to process this. An idea is already forming in her head but it seems awfully too good to be real, especially after the hellish weeks she's experienced trying to throw up flowers in secret. But if the doctors didn't take out the Hanahaki, then that would mean it healed on its own. That would mean Chaeyoung actually—_ oh._

"Do you understand now?" Jihyo asks, redirecting her attention back to her unnies. “What we’re trying to tell you?”

Tzuyu touches her throat by instinct, finding relief in how easily she can breathe. "Where's Chaeyoung?" she asks, desperate to know. 

Almost like in a romantic comedy, the door to the hospital room swings open. They all turn and Tzuyu's heart speeds up at the sight of Chaeyoung stepping inside with a duffel bag on her shoulder. She looks like she hasn't slept at all, dark hair sticking out everywhere and prominent shadows under her eyes. She also seems to be deep in her thoughts because she doesn't notice that everybody is staring at her until the silence becomes too jarring. 

Chaeyoung looks up and meets Tzuyu's gaze. Then she smiles that warm smile of hers—it's enough to ease all of Tzuyu's worries. Like it always does.

Sana and Momo suddenly start giggling. "Oh, this is too cute," the former says while their main dancer twists her hands to form a large heart. It suspiciously looks like a circle instead. 

"Let's give them some space," Jihyo announces, leaving no room for argument. All the girls except for the two youngest clamber along. Tzuyu sees Dahyun squeeze Chaeyoung's shoulder as she passes by, a broad grin on her face. 

The door closes behind Mina. It's just the two of them now. Before Chaeyoung can open her mouth to speak, Nayeon suddenly barges back inside to yell, "Before you do _anything,_ the doctors advised us to tell Tzuyu not to do any activities that are too _strenuous _okay? You got that, Chae? No funny business. Good." There's a yelp from Nayeon as Mina drags her away using the back of her shirt. The door closes again. 

Tzuyu realizes she's blushing. "Nayeonnie is so stupid," she grumbles. 

Chaeyoung laughs and drops the duffel bag on the floor. "You're not allowed to leave yet," she says, stepping closer, "so I asked management to let me stay here for the night. Thank God they agreed." 

Tzuyu's heart tightens. In a good way, though. "You'll stay?" she asks, unable to keep the hope from her voice. 

Chaeyoung smiles. "Every night until you get better, if you want." Then the smile suddenly dims, worry replacing the warmth from earlier. Tzuyu immediately reaches out and grabs her hand. Her stomach flutters when Chaeyoung squeezes back.

"What's wrong?" the taller of the two asks. 

The shorter girl shakes her head. Tears suddenly leak from her eyes. "I just keep remembering what happened," she murmurs, letting out a forlorn sigh, "I really thought I was going to lose you."

Guilt claws up Tzuyu's throat. "I'm sorry for making you worry," she whispers, "and for telling you that I was fine." 

Chaeyoung nods furiously. "You're really an idiot, Tzuyu-ya," she grumbles, crossing her arms and impatiently wiping away her tears, "Like seriously—for weeks, you just kept hiding away in the bathroom and taking _cough _medicine for Hanahaki! I knew something was wrong but you kept telling everybody that you were fine! I thought that if it was serious, then you'd tell me about it because that's what friends are for, right? God, I really should've confronted you sooner—this is _my _fault, after all." She suddenly bursts into tears and Tzuyu, panicking, wraps her up in a hug. Chaeyoung leans on her shoulder, sobbing. 

"None of this is your fault," Tzuyu says firmly, gritting her teeth, "I was the one who hid it from everybody, who refused the surgery, who didn't tell you about my—" She stops, taking a deep breath. Chaeyoung has gone still in her arms. 

The silence is painstakingly heavy. 

"You were never going to tell me, were you?" Chae asks, her voice small. 

Tzuyu's tongue has always been filled with lies. She decides to tell the truth for once. "Yes." 

Chaeyoung's fingers curl against her shirt, unconsciously pulling her closer. "You stupid fucking idiot," she mutters darkly against her shoulder; Tzuyu flinches, "I can't believe you would rather die than tell me how you feel—" 

"I've gotten used to it," Tzuyu gently interrupts, letting out a soft sigh, "I'm not the type of person who expresses herself. You know that, right?" 

"Better than anyone." 

"I'm really sorry, Chaengie."

Chaeyoung nods, tears still leaking from her eyes. "Just—" she wraps her arms around Tzuyu "—don't lie to me ever again, okay?" 

Tzuyu thinks about Chaeyoung's outburst in the bathroom and how terrified she was when the flowers wouldn't stop coming out of her mouth. She nods, grateful that she can keep this promise now, grateful that she can breathe easier, grateful that Chaeyoung actually feels the same way— 

_Wait. _

_Does_ _she_? 

Tzuyu leans back, staring at Chaeyoung. The shorter girl's eyes are red-rimmed, full of unshed tears. Her mouth is still trembling. "Chaengie," the maknae states, afraid to voice out her concerns. She's never been the most forward one in the group. The thought of asking Chaeyoung about her feelings gives her cold feet. What on earth is she supposed to say? _Do you love me too? _That just seems like a desperate cry for affection. Tzuyu _never _asks for affection. So how can she say this? How can she ask? How can she put the words out—?

Her thoughts are interrupted when Chaeyoung brings a hand up to her neck and pulls her into a kiss. The first thing that registers in Tzuyu's brain is how soft and gentle Chaeyoung's lips are and how in this single kiss, all the questions and worries in Tzuyu's brain have ceased, leaving behind only a sense of calm and peace. The second thing to register is Chaeyoung's fingers on the nape of her neck, playing with the short baby hairs underneath her long mane and pulling her closer, afraid to let her go. The last thing to register is how _easy _it is to kiss Son Chaeyoung and how Tzuyu thinks of all the wasted years she spent pining after her when she could've just done _this. _

She finds Chaeyoung's answer to her unvoiced question in between the breaths they have to take before their mouths inevitably reconnect: _Do you love me too? _

_Yes, Tzuyu. _

When they pull away, Chaeyoung immediately begins rambling, her cheeks red, "You know, I like to think that I know a lot about you. Like how you take your coffee with three cups of sugar and one creamer, how your resting bitch face has four different meanings depending on the situation and how you always ask me a question without having to say a single word." She traces Tzuyu's lips absentmindedly, her eyes never leaving the maknae's face. "But I never knew you felt that way about me." 

Tzuyu chokes out a laugh. There are tears in her eyes and she doesn't bother wiping them away, knowing they will only be replaced with a heavier flow. "How can I not?" she asks, biting her lower lip and staring at the shorter girl, "You made me fall for you that day in the bathroom, Chaeyoung-ah." 

Chae groans and drops her forehead on Tzuyu's shoulder, hands reaching out to grip her hospital gown. "Stop that," she whines, "I'm still mad at you for not telling me about the Hanahaki." 

"I didn't think you'd feel the same way." Another worry pushes its way into Tzuyu's thoughts—the idea that Chaeyoung only returned her feelings just to save her life. The turmoil must've been obvious on her face or maybe Chae is just _that _good at reading Chou Tzuyu because the shorter girl shakes her head and kisses her again. 

"Don't," she says against her lips, "You're cured now—it means that I reciprocate your feelings. I'm sorry it took so long for me to figure it out." 

"It only took me nearly dying in your arms to realize that you might—?" Tzuyu can't say the words out loud yet, afraid to jinx it. She just sighs and lets Chaeyoung figure out the rest. 

Which of course she does. "I've loved you for so long, Tzu." Chaeyoung looks away shyly. "I just didn't realize in what way, until you collapsed in that bathroom. When they took you to the hospital, all I could about was why I didn't realize it sooner. You wouldn't have had to suffer like that." 

Tzuyu purses her lips. This is one of the reasons why she didn't want to tell Chaeyoung in the first place—she knows she'd beat herself up for it, even though it was never her fault in the first place. But the pain of Hanahaki is a small price to pay in exchange for the girl's love. Tzuyu would gladly do it all over again. 

"You're worth it," the taller girl whispers, meaning every word.

Chaeyoung smiles. "And you're a masochist." 

"Maybe." Tzuyu can't stop staring at her, smiling like some sort of an idiot. Her heart is full. She thinks of the weeks of agony she endured just to get to this point and compares it to the few minutes of happiness she's already shared with Chaeyoung. She might've been willing to die just to keep her feelings a secret but what they have right now is something she wouldn't trade for the world. 

"Are you tired?" Chaeyoung asks when the silence envelops them. 

"A little," Tzuyu answers, biting back a yawn. 

The shorter girl moves away from the bed, heading towards the couch, but Tzuyu grabs hold of her hand and stops her. "What?" Chae asks, raising her eyebrows.

"Where are you going?" 

"The couch. I was going to let you sleep." 

Tzuyu frowns, glancing down at that extra space next to her on the hospital bed. Chaeyoung follows her gaze with a furrowed brow. Then it clicks. She grins. "You know we're not supposed to do anything, right?" 

A blush appears on the younger girl's face. "I wasn't implying—" she starts to say but Chae just laughs and slips into the bed next to her. It's a bit cramped, though. One inch to the left and Tzuyu's butt will fall off. But then Chaeyoung turns to her side, facing the maknae, and puts her head on her shoulder. Her arm comes up to wrap around her middle with her lips touching Tzuyu's collarbone, just above her heart. It tingles. Tzuyu has a sense of deja vu. 

"What are you thinking about?" Chaeyoung murmurs against her skin; Tzuyu traces letters on her arm, writing '_ I love you' _in Mandarin. 

"The first time you…" she trails off, sighing. 

"Ah." Chaeyoung looks up at her, grinning. "You remember that?" 

"How can I forget?" 

Chae chuckles, falling silent, and intertwines their fingers together. Tzuyu closes her eyes and inhales deeply. Her airway is clear. It doesn't hurt to breathe. This is how freedom must taste like. 

Then—

“_Góa ài li,_ Tzuyu." The confession is exhaled in a sigh but Tzuyu hears it anyway. 

Flowers erupt in her chest but it's the good kind—the kind that embraces you, not suffocates you. The kind that lulls you into a bed of warmth, not choke you to death. The kind that reminds you of spring and sunlight, not thorns and blood. It's not stripes carnations—not anymore, anyway. Perhaps the red ones. The one that symbolizes deep affection. But Tzuyu knows this isn’t just affection. This is something more, it has always been something more. From the moment Chaeyoung found her hiding away in that bathroom all those years ago, it has always been love. 

“_Saranghae, _Chaengie,” she whispers back, a rush of gratitude filling her bones. She curls closer to the shorter girl, shuts her eyes and falls asleep to the knowledge that when she’ll wake up the next day, Son Chaeyoung will still be there by her side. 

…

“Do you think they did it?” Nayeon whispers to Jihyo who raises her hand to threaten her with a slap. They’re a few steps away from Tzuyu’s room and their excitement is bubbling beneath the surface—for all the wrong reasons, of course.

“Those are our maknaes!” Jihyo says in return, blushing furiously, “Don’t taint them with your dirty-mindedness, unnie.” 

Their leader doesn’t notice Sana and Dahyun placing bets on what they might discover inside the hospital room. The Japanese woman thinks they’re going to find the two youngest girls in a spooning situation while the latter believes that Chaeyoung will already be walking around with Tzuyu’s hospital gown instead. 

Mina and Jeongyeon let out their own respective sighs from behind the group. Momo’s in the middle of readying her phone to take a picture of what they’ll find inside. “I bet they’ve kissed already,” she says gleefully, “Isn’t that amazing? They’re each other’s first kiss! I think I’m going to barf because of how cute they are.”

“Remind me not to tell you guys if I’m already dating someone,” Jeongyeon says to Mina. 

The youngest Japanese woman nods solemnly. “Noted, unnie.” 

Nayeon shushes them suddenly, the volume of her hush louder than her normal speaking voice, which kinds of defeats the purpose. They’ve reached the door now. Everybody holds their breath. It’s their right to get excited—ever since all of them found about Tzuyu’s feelings for Chaeyoung, they’ve been rooting for them to get together. When Tzuyu was hospitalized, none of them could get a good night’s sleep. They also had to take turns in comforting Chaeyoung, who felt like it was her fault. But it doesn’t matter now. It’s all in the past. Those two idiots are finally in a good place to fall in love all over again.

Jihyo presses her finger to her lips, glaring at them individually, before she pushes the door open. Unfortunately, Momo gets a little too excited and accidentally shoves Jeongyeon inside. It’s a domino effect—Jeongyeon crashes into Dahyun who stumbles forward and hits both Sana and Nayeon who narrowly misses hitting Jihyo’s face. Thankfully, their leader manages to sidestep but not gracefully enough because she leans a little bit too hard to the left and crashes straight into a table with Chaeyoung’s duffel bag on it. Nearly everybody is on their knees or lying on the ground, groaning. Mina, the only one saved by the onslaught of their excitement, stands at the doorway with her mouth hanging wide open. 

Tzuyu and Chaeyoung are sitting up on the bed, looking casual and friendly. Nothing scandalous seems to have happened. In fact, they look like they’ve been awake for a while. The only detail that confirms their relationship is the fact that their hands are intertwined. 

“What the _fu _—” Tzuyu stops herself, sensing Jihyo’s glare. 

“Seriously, unnies?” Chaeyoung asks and shakes her head disapprovingly. 

“Momo pushed me!” Jeongyeon yelps. 

“Nu-uh.” 

“Yes, you did!” 

“Shut up,” Jihyo grumbles, stumbling to her feet to grab the clothes that have fallen from Chae’s bag, “Just shut up, everybody. It’s eight in the morning and you’re all giving me a headache.”

Nayeon guides Sana, who looks more dazed than usual, to a sitting position. Meanwhile, Dahyun is still lying face down on the floor, groaning loudly. Mina gets down to help her up. Jeongyeon and Momo sit on the floor wearing identical expressions of grumpiness. 

“So,” Sana says after blinking the stars out of her eyes, not that they’re ever gone in the first place, “how are you guys?” 

“Did you kiss?” Momo demands. 

“Are you together?” Jeongyeon asks. 

Jihyo rushes forward, hands on her hips. “Did Chaeyoung do anything you weren’t comfortable with, Tzuyu?” 

“Hey! Why do you think Chae’s the one who's going to do anything like that?” Nayeon questions sharply.

Dahyun rubs her head, mutters ‘_ fucking hell, that was quite a fall _’ before she, too, starts interrogating Chaeyoung about the events of last night, telling her not to leave any stone unturned and asking for details from start to finish. On the other hand, Mina hides a wide smile from behind her hand. She’s never seen Tzuyu and Chaeyoung look so distressed and happy at the same time. 

“Unnies,” Tzuyu states after a full minute of blabbering from the other members, her face morphing into a carefully neutral expression, “please stop talking.”

Everybody shuts up at once. They’ve always been whipped for their maknae. Chaeyoung snorts at this fact.

“There’s only one thing you need to know—” Tzuyu begins, still blank as ever. She glances over at the short-haired girl sitting next to her on the bed. The rest of the girls can see the shift in her expression and the low tilt of her voice as she adds, “—Chaeyoung’s the only person who’s allowed to annoy me this early in the morning and gets away with it. So, please, leave the room before I call the nurse. You’re disturbing my recovery.” 

They don’t have to be told twice. Jihyo ushers them out of the room, apologizing for their behavior. Sana and Dahyun are arguing about their bet. Momo is whining about how she didn’t get to record their entrance. Jeongyeon and Mina are trying to comfort a wailing Nayeon who’s complaining about how their little sisters are all grown up. It’s all a headache really—yet, Tzuyu still allows herself to smile. They care a lot—in their own annoyingly unique way. She’ll deal with them later. 

“Now.” She turns to her girlfriend, her smile blossoming fully now, “Where were we?” 

Chaeyoung rolls her eyes, leans forward and captures Tzuyu’s lips with her own. They were in the middle of a make-out session when the rest of the members barged in. Thank God they heard Nayeon’s voice shushing the girls earlier or else their unnies would’ve never let this go. 

In the end, things have a way of working out. For better or for worse. Tzuyu’s just glad she doesn’t have to wake up early in the morning to throw out bags of striped carnations anymore. Instead, she can spend them tracing the shape of the beauty mark under Chaeyoung's lip with her thumb and thinking of how poetic it is that her name in Korean means ‘flowers.’

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are appreciated! I'll try to reply to them ASAP. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this! 
> 
> See you soon!


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